Destiny's Bride (14 page)

At the chief’s tepee, the masses parted and allowed Lone Eagle to dismount. Frozen in place, she trained her gaze forward, fearing to look down into the strange faces still surrounding and picking at her.

Next to a distant tepee, apart from the rest of the crowd, one woman stood with arms folded in a domineering stance. Her coal-black eyes locked in a bone-chilling stare with Cecile’s, issuing a silent challenge.

Cecile jerked her gaze away, scanning the crowd for just one friendly face to erase the unnerving feeling the woman caused. Had she made a horrible mistake by coming here? Lone Eagle’s familiar smile came into focus and eased her fear. She released her pent-up breath.

Someone pushed the lodge opening aside, and an older version of Lone Eagle emerged. His body was almost identical in size and shape, except that Chief Broken Feather had graying hair and a slight stoop. No doubt, he contributed to his son’s rugged good looks.

The chief grasped his son’s shoulders and pulled him close.  Words he spoke close to Lone Eagle’s ear were too soft to hear.  Standing behind waited a petite woman who Cecile assumed was his mother. When the chief stepped aside, the woman embraced Lone Eagle, and hugging him tightly, speaking in her native tongue. Cecile needed no translation because love and relief shone in the older woman’s eyes.

The touching sight of mother and son brought tears to Cecile’s eyes. She appreciated the fear and anguish his parents must have experienced, thinking their beloved son dead. Thoughts of her own parents flashed through her mind. Had they discovered the truth? Did they mourn her possible demise?  No, of course not.  Her letter had depicted nothing but happiness, and they had no way to contact her even if they wanted.  Even a return post from them wasn’t possible.

Lone Eagle momentarily disappeared into the throng of bodies as one after another, the tribe members came forward to greet and welcome him home. Feeling forgotten, Cecile waited, too fearful to dismount, and certainly not wanting to interrupt the joyous reunion.  The scene brought out jealousy, which she tamped down, but her envy turned to pity and then to anger at how her life had taken such a drastic turn.  

Finally, Lone Eagle left behind the reaching hands and adoring pats and pushed toward her. Even though a reassuring smile lit his face and warmed her throughout, an icy shiver of fear ran up her spine. He lifted her down from the saddle and into his arms, then continued to hold her close for longer than necessary once her feet were on the ground. She felt awkward with so many watching and uneasy at his familiarity. A sudden hush fell over the crowd, almost as if they awaited an explanation for his actions and her presence in the village.

He draped his arm around her shoulders and made a statement in his native tongue.

Murmurs moved through the crowd, and the people looked at him through wide eyes.  Some engaged Lone Eagle in conversation. Cecile took a deep breath and held it, wondering why all eyes were on her again.

“I told them you are my woman and demanded that they respect you.” Lone Eagle translated for her.  “My people think you are an evil spirit that has bewitched me. I explained to them there is nothing to fear from you. They now know the one with the fiery hair will share my lodge and bear my sons.”

Cecile gasped. No wonder everyone seemed shocked. She glanced back to the spot where the woman with the piercing stare had stood, but she was gone. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, and she took a deep breath, finally feeling comfortable enough to relax, if just for a moment.

Chapter Eleven

Lone Eagle maneuvered Cecile through the crowd, toward his mother and father. “This is Green Eyes, my woman. I am proud to bring her to my people.”

His father surveyed her from head to toe. “I, Broken Feather, Chief of the Sioux, welcome you to our village, Green Eyes.” He spoke in broken English. “My wife, Singing Sparrow, and I open our home to you. May the spirits smile down on the lodge you and my son will share after the joining.”

Singing Sparrow meekly approached and took Cecile’s hands. The words she spoke were in Sioux, and although Cecile didn’t understand, Singing Sparrow’s warm touch and smile made Cecile feel welcome. Broken Feather motioned for her to enter the tepee, and Cecile ducked inside, heaving a sigh at escaping the crowd of curious onlookers. The chief’s mention of ‘joining’ still rang in her ears.

Once inside and comfortably seated on buffalo robes, Lone Eagle’s father’s brow furrowed. “My son, where have you been? You were gone for a long time and we feared you lost to us. How did you meet this woman with flaming hair?”  The barrage of questions began.

The conversation turned to a combination of Sioux and occasional English, and although Cecile understood only bits and pieces, she was too tired to mind and happy to be out of the saddle and warm again. Weariness weighted her eyes closed.  Maybe she’d rest them for a few minutes.

She awoke with a start. Her cheeks warmed at the realization she had leaned on Lone Eagle’s shoulder and fallen asleep. She’d wanted to make a good impression on his parents and now she feared they would think her rude. Singing Sparrow gazed warmly into Cecile’s eyes, reached over and patted her stomach. Apparently, during her brief nap Lone Eagle had explained her “delicate” condition.

Singing Sparrow uttered something in Sioux but held her arms in a cradling position, rocking them back and forth. Cecile nodded, pleased that Lone Eagle’s parents were happy about the baby, but her insides quivered. How happy would be to learn it wasn’t his child? Surely, he wouldn’t share that piece of information.

Broken Feather and Singing Sparrow displayed their adoration for their son in tone and approving looks. They obviously trusted Lone Eagle’s choices and made no unwelcome overtures, continually smiling in Cecile’s direction whenever he mentioned her name. As time passed, she felt more at ease and less like an intruder. At least for the moment, within the confines of their tepee, she was safe. But her momentary feeling of comfort ended when Lone Eagle stood and helped her to her feet.

Dread knotted her stomach. Despite the fact they’d spent many nights alone on the trail and in her own home, there was something different now that he’d announced she was his woman. Logically, she knew it was far too early for bed, but that didn’t ease her growing apprehension about the approaching sunset. Memories of how she used to look forward to nighttime saddened her.

Lone Eagle threw aside the tepee flap to leave, temporarily blinding her with the bright sunlight. Her vision cleared to see several villagers still waiting outside for another look, but he uttered something in Sioux, and the people parted to let the pass. Their curious stares were discomforting.

While crossing the compound, she spied the one who had earlier stood apart from the rest of the tribe. Again the woman pierced her with a heartless stare. Who was this person, and why did she appear so angry? Before Cecile could point her out to Lone Eagle, the woman disappeared behind a nearby tepee. Perplexed and disturbed by this second occurrence, Cecile shook her head but said nothing.

Arriving at a lodge he proclaimed as his own, Lone Eagle held open the entrance flap and motioned for her to enter. Although he was oblivious to what had happened, Cecile’s mood lightened. Instead of earlier doubts about being alone with him, his home provided a safe haven from someone who so evidently disliked her.

Her inspection noted the tidiness of her surroundings. Cooking vessels were neatly stacked on wooden shelves above the floor, and a ring of stones created a fire pit that held several blazing logs. As the drying wood crackled and burned, filling the room with warmth, smoke spiraled upwards and out an opening at the top of the tepee. Lone Eagle hadn’t left her sight since their arrival, so someone else obviously readied the lodge for them. The thoughtfulness touched her heart and dimmed the memory of the one hateful woman.

Cecile’s gaze rested on a raised platform holding numerous blankets and skins, then traveled to the weapons hanging on the wall next to a tapestry of the sun, moon, and stars. Did the drawing have special meaning? She turned to ask.

“My grandfather drew the picture on the skins before the tepee was built.” Lone Eagle answered before she opened her mouth.  Did the man possess the ability to read minds?

“What does it mean?”

“It tells the story of my birth and the love my people have for the land and the Great Spirit above.”

She smiled, thinking how much she had yet to learn about Indian ways, but a frown tugged at her lips at a mental image of the strange woman. Cecile yearned to ask Lone Eagle about her, but her description would fit most women in the village. Pointing her out seemed the best idea. She warmed her hands over the fire and decided to wait until they crossed paths again.

Lone Eagle ducked outside and came back carrying her valise of meager belongings. She searched around for a place to put her things, and thought again of the path her life had taken. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d dwell among Indians, but for some strange reason, she felt at ease. She busied herself stacking her things along the far wall.  If this was to be her home, she’d decorate the way she wanted.

Although her rearranging got interrupted several times by those bringing small gifts and offerings of food to welcome Lone Eagle’s new woman to the tribe, Cecile didn’t mind. By sunset, the continuing parade of people ceased and she plopped down next to the fire.  “I’ve met so many today, I’ve already forgotten their names.  Why must you all have such confusing ones?”

Lone Eagle laughed. “Don’t worry, Green Eyes. In time you will become better acquainted with each of them. Then it will be easier to tell them apart.”

She smiled, recalling all the round, brown faces with dark eyes and hair, and highly doubted the possibility. “I’m not so sure. They only have to remember one person with red hair, and I have to know the names of one hundred who all look alike.”

The day had been emotional as well as physical, and even breathing took energy Cecile didn’t have. Lone Eagle brought fresh water, and she sat on their bed of buffalo skins next to the fire, enjoying the glow and watching the shadows dance on lodge wall as she washed up. Relaxed by the warmth, her eyes grew heavy, but she fought to stay awake.  All during the trip she’d looked forward to sleeping in a nightgown instead of the confinement of her clothes, and darn it, tonight she was going to get her wish. She scrubbed at her face with lukewarm water to wash away her drowsiness, but she needn’t have bothered. She crossed to where she’d stored her clothing, and the sudden realization there was only one pallet shocked her wide awake.

What hadn’t she noticed it before? A lump formed in her throat as she pulled her gown out of the stack of clothes and looked around for a place to change. Lone Eagle most likely viewed her need to wear different clothes for bed much like he considered her need for a saddle—neither necessary. Worry niggled at her.  Did he plan to share a bed with her?

Clutching her nightdress, she wondered where one found privacy in a big circular room. Where was the security in having only a flap to cover the opening of the tepee? His perplexed look followed her every step, and she almost chuckled at his confusion…except this didn’t seem the appropriate time to be amused.

“Lone Eagle,” she finally asked. “How does one know when the other needs privacy? There is no door to close or bolt.”

Lone Eagle grinned. “A closed flap signifies a desire for privacy, and as a show of respect for this, no one will enter without your approval. You have nothing to fear. This will be your home until we are joined, and no one will enter unless you open the flap and invite them in.”

Cecile furrowed her brow. “My home or our home?”

“This lodge was built by Little Rabbit and I was to share it with her.”

A sigh whooshed from Cecile. She didn’t much relish the idea of living in a lodge that held constant memories of his past love, but objection wasn’t an option. Still, he hadn’t answered her question.

“As is customary, I will live with Broken Feather and Singing Sparrow until I take you as wife. Little Rabbit and I never shared this lodge. The women erect it at each camp with hopes I will share it with another, but I have avoided entering because of the sadness it brings to my heart. Your presence makes it a place that cries to be filled with new and happy memories.”

His statement flooded her with warmth as well as relief, knowing she didn’t have to face the awkwardness of sharing a bed with him. Yet strangely, a tinge of sadness lingered because she wouldn’t be. The image of the angry woman flashed in her mind, bringing with it a feeling of cowardice. Being alone frightened her.  Cecile took his hand in her trembling one. “Would you at least stay until I fall asleep? I’m feeling a little anxious and I think I can rest easier if you’re here.”

“Yes, I’ll stay, but would you like to me to step outside so you can go through the white ritual of nighttime?”

Chapter Twelve

Lone Eagle paced outside, left to guess how much private time Green Eyes needed to do whatever she was doing. When he'd waited a considerable amount of time, he announced his presence by clearing his throat in case he hadn’t stayed away long enough.

She was already in bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin, her long red hair cascading over the covers. The fire had died down to a few flickering flames, casting a soft glow on the walls of the tepee. She turned and looked at him, and the fire’s reflection danced in her eyes the color of spring grass. The sight of her quickened his heartbeat, and he took a deep breath. He wanted to pretend she really was his woman; to take her in his arms and claim what he'd thought about those nights on the trail.